allthisshitisweird | TEST DRIVE MEME!

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TEST DRIVE MEME!

What if there is no tomorrow?

Only more Hinterlands

Maybe the Inquisition sent you, maybe you came seeking the Inquisition. Maybe you fell out of a rift into this world last week and are still just trying to find your feet. However it happened, the first days of the new year find you in the Hinterlands. Tucked between Ferelden's massive Lake Calenhad and the icy Frostback Mountains, the Hinterlands are a hilly region covered in patchy forests and small farms trying to eke out a living between the boulders. Though somewhat remote, the area is rich with game and minerals and home to Redcliffe, a bustling town on a busy trade route.

Lately the Hinterlands have also been full of mages and templars and rifts, all threatening to turn once-peaceful countryside into a dangerous warzone. The Inquisition has set up several camps and sent personnel to try to restore order to the region, unwilling to let it slip into chaos. There's a lot to be done, some of it straightforward killing bad things, some of it weird and nebulous morale-building.

STILL WITH ADDED SNOW AND NOW ALSO ADDED KINDNESS TO ANIMALS (MOSTLY).

1. IF I GET SCARED, YOU'RE ALWAYS AROUND

You have turned the wrong corner in the snow, forded the wrong stream in the snow, crested the wrong hill in the snow, entered the wrong cave in the snow. Maybe you are far from camp, in the snow. Maybe you are in camp, which is also snowy. Whatever has happened, wherever you are: you are being chased through the snow by bears. Did you throw a snowball at the bears? Are they huge and snow-dusted? Babies burrowing through the snow drifts and coming for your ankles? Fade-touched in addition to snow-touched? Controlled by cold mages who are hiding in the snow? Popping up out of the snow like a game of whack-a-mole? What are they chasing you away from in all of this snow? What are they chasing you into, other than more snow? What warm things do you plan to make out of their hide if you kill them in the snow? What do you think they'll craft out of your hide if they kill you in the snow? P.S. It's still snowy.

2. THEY SAY WE'RE YOUNG AND WE DON'T KNOW

The Inquisition has, possibly, been a little too good at dealing with the Hinterlands' bear problem, and a group of concerned citizens--including young burgeoning naturalists, farmers concerned about the effect an unchecked population of rams may have on their crops come spring, and at least one woman who claims to be directly descended from bears--has taken issue. Maybe they're blocking your character's attempt to enter a bear-infested area. Maybe they've doused your character in bear blood. Maybe the bears they have been working so hard to save have cornered them in the wilderness and they're changing their tunes.

3. WITH YOU I CAN'T GO WRONG

The Inquisition's (cough Leliana's) habit of communicating by raven works out fine, usually, but this particular raven has gone a little rogue. It's not the raven's fault! She's young, she's trying. But she has very important information tied to her leg, and instead of delivering it, she's joined a flock of identical wild ravens to hunt for food in the snow. Recover her, somehow, without hurting her and making any spymistresses angry.

4. BEFORE IT'S EARNED, OUR MONEY'S ALL BEEN SPENT

The tavern at Redcliffe remains as busy as ever, filled with locals, travelers, and Inquisition members. But this month in addition to the usual free-flowing ale and rowdy conversation there is also a contest going on. Bakers have come from across the Hinterlands bearing their very best in an effort to win a coveted ribbon and the title of Best Cake. They pack the tavern and spill out into the surrounding courtyard when the weather allows, cakes sold off tables, out of packs, small chunks given away to whoever is passing and not paying enough attention to refuse. The votes are carefully guarded by several serious looking fellows in the back corner of the tavern. In addition to traffic issues, the cake madness has also caused an infestation of large local rodents, who have appeared out of their holes to devour the many crumbs. Legend has it that if they can be humanely eradicated from the tavern before the final vote is cast, spring will come early. No one in living memory has succeeded, but you are strongly encouraged to try anyway.

5. AIN'T NO HILL OR MOUNTAIN WE CAN'T CLIMB

Hunt game so you can rescue it before other hunters get there, kill demons or maybe just try to hug it out?, dig under the snow for herbs or plant some of your own to replace what others have taken, track bandits through the snow and see if they need a hand, deal with someone charging extortionist coat prices now that it's snowing and convince them to do the right thing, fall off a deceptively tall rock into the snow and admit it was your own fault, get lost circling the same hill ten times trying to find a way up to the weird glowing skull on a stick you can see is up there in the snow so that you can give it a decent burial, climb trees or abandoned towers covered in snow and be careful not to knock them down, rummage around in empty homes to get out of the snow but leave a nice apology note, run from a dragon in the snow and promise not to trespass on its territory again, definitely don't kill any fennec foxes, set up camp and chat around the fire about your feelings because it's snowy and cold, give yourself a pat on the back (figuratively, or even literally if that's more your speed)-- the Hinterlands are your playground.

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She glanced back at the bears they'd left behind, half-expecting to hear the crack of ice as they broke free. But she didn't, and she would have thought that would have made her feel better, but instead she just found herself worrying about what would happen if that poor cub that had started all of this lost one or both of its parents. She actually had to stop herself from turning back to help them.

Thankfully, her sense of self-preservation was much stronger than that.

Speaking of which, she eventually slowed to a stop, bracing herself against a tree and keeping her head down. She had to remind herself that she'd watched friends die; she shouldn't be this fazed by seeing a bear get hit in the head with an axe (it had happened too quickly for her to have discerned which end of the axe had struck, but in her defense, it was a big axe, so she could only assume that she wouldn't want to be hit by any part of it).

"I will be," she breathed, idly rubbing her tingling hand against her jeans as she wondered whether she'd injured it somehow, "once I get back to my dormitory and figure out how I got here." If she wasn't dreaming, then she'd been sleepwalking, which meant that she couldn't be too far from Hogwarts, right?

The hand rubbing got his attention, and things quickly fell into place in succession. "Let me guess. Got a little shine stuck in your hand?" he murmured, letting the axe rest on his shoulder.

The Iron Bull's tone was flat, a sign that this was nothing new. People had been coming through the Rifts in handfuls, and usually without a clue of how'd they'd got there, eager to return. No one had yet managed to figure out what had drawn them to this side of the Veil, much less how to return them from the worlds they'd come from.

Definitely explained the lost look. Bull's brow creased with sympathy. Wasn't going to be a whole lot in the way of good news for her.

His question struck her as odd, and she looked up at him in confusion. "What?" Realizing that he was referencing the hand she'd just been wondering about, she brought it up and looked down at it, expecting to see an abrasion or cut or some other sort of injury.

A glowing green light that looked frighteningly reminscient of a casting of the Killing Curse, though, was something she didn't even know how to process.

She gasped sharply and gave a start, as though trying to put some distance between her and her own hand. After realizing that it wasn't what it looked like, she hesited before cautiously prodding at it when the grip of her wand. It didn't feel like there was a hole beneath that light, but it still felt... wrong.

"What is this?" she asked shakily, surprised that she hadn't noticed it before. She'll blame the bears for that one.

His own reaction wouldn't have been much different. Might have had a few more expletives in there, but that's him. "Yeah. You're gonna have to get the full explanation from one of our people. Back at Skyhold."

And then, aware of how that might sound, especially coming from a non-human his size with an axe handy, Bull took a preventative step back. No need to scare her further.

"Not like I'm saying you have to go," he continued. "But we've been taking people with those marks in, and if there's a chance of going back to wherever it is you came from, they're the ones most likely to find it. You're not the first. Probably won't be the last, either."

With another glance at their surroundings he grunted, nodding further ahead. "I can explain on the way, best I can. But we should probably keep moving in either case."

"What-... is Skyhold some sort of... hospital?"

She didn't have the kind of imagination necessary to dream all of this up, which was what finally made all of this seem a hundred times more real than it had just a moment ago. All she knew was that she was holding her wrist as though her hand had sustained a major injury, and a giant bull-like creature with an equally-large axe was talking as though there was an epidemic of green glowing hands throughout the land. Maybe she was lucky and had just sustained some mild head trauma and was hallucinating all of this.

"Is this dangerous? Am I going to die? I can't die; I have an exam tomorrow!"

Well, at least her priorities were still in order.

"Hospital?"

Not a term he's familiar with, given the odd look she got for that one. But once it became clear that this was all getting a little too overwhelming for her, Bull holstered the axe against his back and held up his hands placatingly.

"Hey. Easy. You're gonna be alright. No one's died of anything yet. Definitely not overnight."

Then, one of those hands reached for hers, hanging there between them. "Start with the easy stuff. I'm the Iron Bull. What do you want me to call you?"

She didn't have to volunteer anything she didn't want to, but it might help to have a basis of names to go off of, even if she decided to make one up. Nothing said she had to trust him, but he was here. And he wouldn't let anything happen to her in the meanwhile.

This... was all very strange. Hermione just stared at him for a time before dropping her gaze and dimly realizing that he was offering her his hand to shake. That was what he was doing, right?

At any rate, he wasn't swiping at her with claws or trying to gore her with those horns, and if she weren't so worried about herself, she might have realized that he was even being fairly personable. So though it took her a few moments, she gingerly reached out with the hand that wasn't glowing, lightly grasping his hand.

"Hermione." Clearing her throat, she clarified, "I'm Hermione Granger. I don't-... I'm sorry, but... the Iron Bull? Is that your name, or...?"

If it was a title of some sort, it sounded every bit as intimidating as he looked, and she'd hate to find out how he'd earned it.

When his fingers closed, they were surprisingly gentle. She didn't need to be spooked, and he knew all too well how people could take his appearance. The same way they usually took his name, he thought with a faint smirk.

"Yeah. Most people seem alright with calling me 'Bull'. I know, it's kind of a mouthful." He released his hold on her hand and straightened, regarding her for a moment. "And hey, kind of fits, right? I mean, the horns and all..."

Another glance was given behind them before he cleared his throat. "But seriously. We ought to get moving. We can chat on the way. Feel alright walking for a ways? Camp shouldn't be far."

The nicer he was to her, the less sense this all seemed to make. But so long as she wasn't in danger of being mauled or eaten, she could deal with the cognitive dissonance of the imposing yet gentle... bull. If that's what he was. It was what he wanted to be called, if nothing else.

Absently rubbing at her arm, she glanced back as well to make sure there weren't any nasty surprises on the horizon. Deciding against dawdling, she nodded absently, looking up at him and even managing to crack a small smile at his show of humor.

"I didn't know there were camps around. Or much of anything. Are you a... soldier? Is Skyhold some sort of base camp?"

"It's a keep, deep in the Frostback Mountains." One hand gestures in the general vicinity of the mountain range, though the hills continue on as far as the eye can see. "Sort of the base of operations for the Inquisition, though."

There was a pause at that question, innocent as it had seemed. A wry smile tugged across his lips. Are you a soldier?

If she knew the half of it.

But that's not a story for now. Maybe not ever. Depended on how things went, he supposed. "I'm a mercenary. Lead a group called the Chargers. We joined up with the Inquisition a few months back. Pay's good, and the fighting never gets dull."

There was so much wrong with what he said that she didn't even know where to begin questioning it. Frostback Mountains? Inquisition? Mercenary? She wondered if she looked as incredulous as she felt the more he "explained" things, but she was at least polite enough to hold her tongue for now. Let him take her back to camp or somewhere where someone could look at her hand and explain what was wrong with it. Then she could question everything that came out of his mouth.

"It sounds exciting," she said levelly, though she probably would have been more likely to call it unscrupulous if not for the fact that she was extremely dependent on him at the moment. And the fact that, despite all appearances, he'd been rather decent to her. He hadn't come out to fight the bears simply because he'd wanted to fight, after all, since he'd left with her once she'd started running.

"I'm sorry, but... I'm not anywhere near the U.K. anymore, am I?"

"Never even heard of it."

She'd picked up on the fact pretty quickly, however. Seemed like a bright girl. She could probably take a little blunt truth and run with it, and Bull let out a quiet huff as they moved.

"Truth is, you're probably not even in the same world. Don't ask me how that works, because I can't begin to put my head around all this magical crap, but the short of it is you got dropped here from wherever it is you come from. And no one's quite sure how to get you all back to where you came from."

One hand gestures ahead of them, towards some unknown destination. "So, instead of leaving you to fend for yourselves, the Inquisition's offered sanctuary to anyone the rifts spit out into our world. You get room and board, food, protection, and a way home as soon as they work one out."

Never even heard of it.

Hermione could have accepted that she'd somehow Apparated to some distant magical community in Europe where there were a little-known race of humanoid bulls and who had an Inquisition instead of a Ministry. It sounded a little daunting, but she would have been able to handle it. To be tossed into some strange land where the first person she'd met wouldn't know the British Isles from sea algae was something else entirely, and she had to fight that sick feeling in the pit of her stomach all over again.

Rather than risk hyperventilating, Hermione took a few moments to breathe slowly as everything Bull told her threatened to suffocate her. "I was dreaming," she pointed out. "I remember going to sleep after studying and I... there were Death Eaters, so I knew it couldn't be real, and then there was this. How could I go from a dream to whatever this is...?"

Worrying at her lower lip, she told him, "You called it magic, but magic doesn't work like this. I'd be more inclined to think that I was hallucinating. My parents did suggest I see a therapist after the war, so this could be all in my own head."

She was rambling, and brushing aside everything Bull told her, and that wasn't exactly the most cordial thing to do when he'd been so helpful to her. So she looked up at him, trying not to feel so tiny despite him having a laughably significant height advantage over her, and tried for another small smile. "Sorry. I don't mean to write you off as some fever dream. I should be thankful you helped me with those bears. I am. Thankful. So thank you."

Bull shrugged, smirking faintly. "Eh. Not the weirdest thing I've fought off."

He wasn't about it take her disbelief personally. It was as natural a reaction as they came. She'd figure out what was real soon enough, and pushing her to do so wouldn't achieve much. Nothing positive, anyway.

"So...magic isn't connected to dreams, and the Fade, where you come from?" Not exactly his area of expertise, magic, but he couldn't help but be a little curious. They were still trying to figure out how all this connected together, after all.

"What's the Fade?" she asked curiously. "Magic is just... it just is. It's a natural force that some people are born being able to wield and some aren't. The men are called wizards, the women witches; those who can't use magic are Muggles. It... gets a bit complicated after that. Magical families don't always have magical children, and sometimes Muggle families have magical children. I'm Muggle-born myself, so I spent the first eleven years of my life not even knowing that magic exists. Once I learned otherwise, I read every book on the subject I could get my hands on."

Pausing for a moment to think it over, she murmured, "But I've never heard of anything called the Fade. And dreams are only connected to magic insofar as Divination goes, and that's a dodgy subject all on its own."

"The Fade is...shit. This'd be a lot easier for a mage to explain."

He gestured vaguely in the air, brow furrowing heavily. "The gist of it is, there are two worlds. This one, the waking world, where everything's real and tangible and what have you. Then there's the Fade, where spirits and demons and abstract concepts hang around. Mages tap into their power by calling on the Fade, and supposedly it's where you go when you dream."

One eyebrow cocks higher. "Thing is, these rifts people have been coming through? Also lead to the Fade. You said you were dreaming when you came here."

For a moment, she couldn't help wondering if he meant that the Fade is, at least figuratively, shit, but then she realized he was having difficulty explaining it. It sounded as though he was trying to say that the Fade was some sort of underworld, but then he brought up abstract concepts, and going there when you dream, and... well, that just sounded too dangerous to be a normal part of life.

"I was, but... everyone can't just go off into some strange abstract dimension when they fall asleep, can they? And demons and spirits can't reside in the same space as all of these dreamers. It doesn't make any sense. Wouldn't that mean that everyone has access to these so-called powers, and wouldn't the demons be able to hurt us while we sleep?"

The more questions she asked, the more pained he looked. "Everyone doesn't. Qunari don't. Neither do dwarves. And as far as I know, demons are only really interested in mages. They can stay...I don't know. 'Aware' in dreams, I guess. Like I said, you'd be better off talking to one of the mages back at Skyhold."

Bull's nostrils flared. He could appreciate her being curious about how it all worked, but he was definitely not the one best equipped to answer her questions. The bulk of them would just have to wait, it appeared.

"I don't know what Qunari are," she replied simply, perfectly oblivious. "And by dwarves, I assume you mean...?" Always one to try and be as sensitive as possible, she held up her hand about waist-high, even if she had no idea whether he was referring to the sorts of dwarves from fairy tales or actual individuals with dwarfism. She couldn't think of a polite way to ask after that, so she just let it be for now.

"But what you're saying is that this only applies to what you call mages? Would... I be considered a mage because I can use magic, or is there more to it than that?" She didn't much like the idea that she'd be have to learn to protect herself from demons whenever she slept, of all things.

"Pretty sure it'd be all the same to anyone you came across here, regardless of where your magic came from. So yeah, I'd say so."

And then he chuckled, a low rumbling sound before shaking his head. "As for Qunari...you're looking at one."

Not that a Rifter would have known that, true. Still, first encounters with people who'd never met a Qunari before were...well. Remarkably like meeting those same sort of people here.

She did seem a good deal less afraid of him, though.

It was easy not to be afraid of someone when he'd just rescued you from a pair of enraged bears. It was still a bit of a strain to look up at his impressive height and take in his features, but she'd befriended giants and hippogriffs; she should be able to handle a... Qunari (apparently) that meant her no harm.

"Oh. So there are others like you? With the horns, I mean?" Cringing a little, she added, "Sorry, I don't mean to be insensitive. We just don't have anyone that looks like you back home."

"Yeah. I get that a lot, actually."

Still, it wasn't about to hurt his feelings. Nice of her to think of them, though. Bull simply shrugged, continuing onward through the brush. They should be reaching the main road before long. All they'd really have to worry about is the odd bandit or two then, if that.

"Most of my people live to the north. If you're not from Northern Tevinter or Seheron, you probably wouldn't see many of us. But some come south for one reason or another. Me? Found out you can carve out a reputation as a professional ass-kicker pretty easily when you look like I do."

Some people were more sensitive than others. Bull didn't strike her as the sensitive sort, but still, it was better to be safe than sorry. Especially when being safe made sure you didn't end up on the wrong end of an axe.

"I don't even know if I'm in what you'd consider the north or south right now," Hermione admits with a small, brief chuckle. "Though... do you mean that many Qunari are in your profession, or are you, um... bigger than most?"

Because he was big. Really big. The only person she'd ever known that was bigger was Hagrid, and he was half-giant.

"Seen bigger. Not many, but they're out there."

Her chuckle is contagious, it seems, and Bull's lips twist upwards. "But yeah. Most who come this way are built bigger than your average human. So mercenary work's common enough. You'll get a few who'd rather be merchants, but people assume you're dangerous when you come this size to begin with."

Not without reason, admittedly.

As they walk, Bull gestures to the mountainous hills around them. "Where you're at now is called the Hinterlands. You can probably get someone to show you where everything else in in relation on a map, once we make camp, but we're definitely pretty far south. South as it gets without heading into the wilds. Not much in the way of civilization that way."

"So there aren't many humans around here, is what you mean?" Hermione would almost prefer stumbling into a camp filled with people who looked more or less like Bull; if he were the only one like himself in the immediate vicinity, it would get frightfully easy to stare. She wouldn't want to be rude or have him get the wrong idea.

She's about to ask him a question when something he says jumps out at her. "You mean... these aren't what you would consider the wilds?" Looking around and making sure that no, there are no cars or planes or signs of sentient life in the immediate vicinity, she remarks, "I didn't really take this for much in the way of civilation."

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